Gangsta Boi
by xMoymoy
Summary: After years of being a gang member, Shinobu acquaints with Miyagi despite their total lack of truth in each other. When Shinobu's history is revealed, things between them get more complicated than ever. Features a rebel, a geek, their pasts, and a gang.


**AN**: This story is basically just an idea that I'll use to play around with or pretty much experimenting (I guess). That means flaws, short chapters, stuff I may not be comfortable with, etc. Ordinarily I don't bother to post stuff like this that I write, but I can use the feedback and I know I hadn't updated anything in a while... nor had I been reading fanfic as much as I normally do :(

Just as a quick warning, this prologue has a bit of violence.

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><p>It was early morning with hazed skies. Huffing into the thick winter humidity, Shinobu's sharp eyes gathered full view of the single-level house he'd just roamed to.<p>

Filth suffocated each slab of wood making up the small building. Cracks and holes occupied the majority of the few windows' surface area with tangled mounds of mold topping the roof.

The air reeked of thick immorality.

For now, the little area meant nothing to the boy. It was purely filth on a lot, not to mention, the trespassing occupants inside swayed of arrogance and belittled anyone who wasn't them. But, Shinobu still yearned to gain membership of this gang. By the end of the morning, it was Shinobu's goal to be allowed to consider the deserted dump as his turf. His home. And, those inside, his family.

Surrounding the shack was basically rubble. Scraps of decaying furniture, wood, and other pieces of junk that the previous house owners left behind many years ago. The house wasn't sold, but abandoned, making it delightfully vulnerable to vandalism.

And it certainly was vandalized, as the boy could clearly see.

Shinobu brushed a shiver off his skin while he walked the front steps. He couldn't see past the closed blinds and years of cobweb buildup, but the small, smoke-eyed kid was sure that at least one of the gang members was inside.

At the front door, his shaky little knees made him hesitate. It was a terrible sign of uncertainty, to tremble, and it annoyed him. Shinobu attempted to shallow his unwanted fear, but it refused to digest. It remained a lump lodged up in his throat, disabling the boy from disposing of it.

Hopefully his body's betrayal won't become too visible upon entrance.

Now, time to join.

His hand made an attempt to twist the cold knob, but it was locked. Knocking would have been the most polite gesture to make next, but polite wouldn't get him anywhere. Polite would result in a letdown.

The blonde dug into the pocket of his loose jeans with his scrawny fingers, retrieving his chain. But this chain was different than from most other chains that thugs would bother to lug around, as it was made up of the boy's favourite tool. Paperclips linked together; perfect for enabling countless opportunities to get past a lock.

He angled the twig of wire into the weak hole of the doorknob, and with only a quick moment of twisting it around, Shinobu managed to swing the door open. A shrill creak startled those inside.

"Who is it?" came a familiar voice.

Shinobu carelessly flicked the paperclip somewhere on the earth before inviting himself in.

The interior was just as trashed as the exterior. Bugs and grime occupied much of the uncared-for space. No toasty heaters were present to warm people as a welcoming, not even in place for the human occupants.

Shinobu glanced around a graffiti-plastered wall, finding a small group of teenagers and young adults. Each scowl connected with his own.

"You again? What do you want?" the gang leader demanded. His voice was soft but sternness was direct.

The smaller boy stepped closer to the room's entrance where they were all scattered and watching him. Booze, cigarettes, and play cards littered the stained rug and furniture.

"I already told you guys." Luckily his voice came out without noticeable shakiness. "I want to join your gang. I'm good enough, so let me in."

"You're persistent." The leader stood up from the sofa. "Or desperate."

The blonde was on dangerous territory. The older guy's icy stare, the room's imploding atmosphere, the fear of not knowing what's to come was all a lot for Shinobu to handle all at once. His body didn't want to move, forcing his mean grimace to linger. His large eyes clamped tight on his potential leader to-be.

"So do I pass?" The boy searched the older leader's face for a response but it was hard to decipher. Shinobu would have to acquire that same illegibility.

"Don't you think you're pretty young?"

"So?"

"How old are you?"

The blonde boy's teeth ground in his mouth. He at last looked away from the handsome leader, his eyes flicking between each of the other members. He noted quickly that none of the other members matched his age. He'd definitely be the underdog of the group, the individual with an enormous lack of respect.

His age alone could possibly lead to the death of him, if not everything else that stood in his way.

"I'm nine," the young boy said at last.

The edges of the leader's mouth rose, but it wasn't a smile. Some of the members behind him smirked, one by one. Shinobu alone resisted the plague's contagion–the increase of uplifted faces instead threatened to intimidate him.

'_Look rough and buff,_' were the words that continuously echoed through his mind. '_Don't let their mockery fool you_.'

"Nine," the superior repeated pointlessly.

Again, grey eyes were trapped on the leader's narrowed dark ones. He swallowed, hard. If one of these people were to spring on him now, he'd have no method of defence. They were all bigger and experienced. The biggest threats, however, were the knives splayed out on the cracked coffee table and the gun handles poking just barely from some of their loose jeans.

"Well, considering your age, you probably have a lot more guts than most people in this room," the older teen said.

Shinobu was enlightened at the quick praise, but didn't dare to announce it.

He was already hearing grudging murmurs sparking off from the five or so thugs loitering around the leader and himself. Envy, or something, was engraved on some of the gang members' features. Seeing it, Shinobu automatically acknowledged their dislike for him.

He couldn't stop a couple of flicks of the eyes from glimpsing at their loathing sneers, but the boy had a fierce determination not to allow anything from faltering him. He kept his vision drilled on the tall leader, _expecting_ him to go on.

One small foot of his stepped forth in front of the other, taking on a risky stance that spoke as though he were scavenging for a fight.

"I'll be an awesome member," he persuaded. "Nobody would suspect me of doing shit because of my age, I can pick almost any lock, I'm fast, smooth, loyal... and..." What did gang leaders usually look for in their followers? "And... I-I'll probably grow up to be really sexy!" He blurted out the first random thing that come to mind, which Shinobu guessed wasn't necessarily a bad thing; people responded better to beauty, right?

Someone's laugh arose from some teenager lazying on a worn sofa. "What, does this brat think we're a group of male prostitutes? C'mon. The kid doesn't even seem legit."

"He can be useful," the leader said.

When the other guy's hand sat on Shinobu's alert head, the boy jolted at the contact. The arm blocked out part of his view and Shinobu didn't utter a word. He was either liked or dead. The leader touching him without laying any conflict was a riddle without an answer.

Did he actually think well of Shinobu, or was he touching his head in a friendly way simply in order to complicate Shinobu's mind? If it was the latter, then the older teen was certainly doing a good job.

Being dumped in the shadows frustrated Shinobu; he was not a patient boy.

"So what is it!" he finally snapped. "I came here for a response. If I can be useful, then let me be useful!"

The person standing before Shinobu removed neither his hand nor his gaze. His illegible eyes observed Shinobu's angered temper, threatening that he could seep within sight of the rest of the boy's emotions.

Again, Shinobu waited for his reaction.

The hand fled from Shinobu's light-coloured head, finding a new spot on the leader's own hip. "What's your name, kid?"

The small boy responded with hesitance, "Shinobu..."

"Fine. Shinobu." His dark eyes narrowed while thinking was in session.

The youngest boy scowled hard to the point where he had to grit his teeth painfully together, to prevent him from spitting profanity for being too damn slow.

He was just eager to become a valuable asset to this group. He'd been waiting for months of his short life, yearning for this opportunity. He couldn't stand his parents, nor his sappy-ass elementary teachers. Shinobu didn't want to please anyone anymore and he wasn't about to waste anymore of his time under their pathetic rules like a chained-up animal.

The kid was better than that. And his "family" was too stupid to figure him out–not that they tried to, anyway.

The leader finally continued, "I'll let you join then. Consider it a gift for your guts and persistence–I like those in you." He let up the faintest of smiles.

Just like that, Shinobu perked up and began to feel much warmer inside. New found joy fluttered in his chest; his body barely recognized the foreign emotion and excitement. Standing there for those mere minutes had granted him with more compliments than he could recall from anyone in a while. It felt good, and he took it like a glutton.

"Don't be grinning yet, kid," the tall guy suddenly grumbled.

Had Shinobu been grinning? He didn't notice.

"There's still one thing left. Everyone had done it, so impress us some more."

"Fine then!" was what instantly shot out of Shinobu's loud mouth. His youthful energy clashed with the bursting rush of incitement he was exhibiting. He felt like nothing was possibly able to get through him and his soon to come recognition as a gang member.

The superior turned his back to the cocky Shinobu, heading closer to the rest of the lounging group. His lips moved but Shinobu couldn't hear and decipher the words he spoke to the five or so others. Whatever it was that the tall guy said drew mixed reactions.

One dopey-looking member revealed only shallow interest. Another smoking fellow smirked devilishly at Shinobu's way while some rough guy peered at the oblivious boy and laughed like a deep-voiced school girl. But one hyped teen...

"_Gah_–!" Shinobu tried to gasp and cough as his small, breathless frame double over. A large fist had seemed to try to rip past Shinobu's stomach wall with a sharp punch. It was an unexpected shot of pain that knocked the air from the young one's windpipe.

When did this jerk even charge at him? Shinobu didn't see it coming at all!

Before the shaken kid could sink to his knees and squeeze his stomach, the person's other powerful hand had him choked around his shirt collar. He felt weak as a rag doll, feeling his scrawny back bash against a wall. The menacing hand held him there more securely than any sort of bondage, placing a lot of pressure on his neck and throat–too much pressure.

His feet weren't even in touch with the floor any longer; not even his toes could tap it.

His terrified eyes squeezed painfully shut, well knowing that he was no match for this guy in neither attacking back nor defending.

In turn, there was no escaping the next few blows, this time targeting his delicate face. For a child, it was nightmarish and excruciating.

"Hey!" an annoyed voice interrupted from behind Shinobu's attacker, "quit hogging the kid! Bring him back here."

The weak blonde was peeled away from the wall with great force. The next thing he crashed into was the floor, in front of the people who were now gathered. Shinobu spluttered out a couple of frail coughs, at last finding some breath. Skinny hands moved between the ground and his chest, helping him to push himself up a bit. His face burned where he'd been hit; the boy wasn't familiar with other people inflicting pain onto him.

"Wha–"

Someone's pointy shoe forced itself into the poor blonde's stomach, cutting off his feeble croak. Again, his teary eyes pulled irreversibly shut while he uttered a silent wince of agony.

How many strikes could it take to murder a nine year old? That was Shinobu's question. He was terrified of the answer.

After a couple seconds of rough foul play from multiple mobsters, a haunting voice drove through their actions, reaching Shinobu's ears over his own tortured whimpers and useless cries.

"Don't just lay there, kid." It was the leader, watching from a distance. "Fight them back. You can't possibly expect me to recruit a weak runt."

Each kick was a blow to his torso and legs, as well as to his pride. But with the increasing pain and numbness, joined with their blatant unwillingness to quit, Shinobu didn't see how it was possible to stand up and take them.

But if it was his test, he had to do something. Before they'd start hurling their legs at his face and murder him.

Inhaling sharply, Shinobu knew he had to get out from their surrounding loose circle quickly. He kept his eyes closed and braced himself, putting all his strength into his arms and legs to get him onto his knees. Before that was even accomplished, some strong person's foot bashed into Shinobu's chest, the upward angle making the light boy spring back a couple feet.

It was perfect. The travel gave him the standing chance to unsteadily leap onto his shaky feet, now that he was out of some of their legs' reach.

He couldn't ignore his body aching everywhere or the mutant-looking bruising he'll be spotted with. He knew he was going to look hideous for a while; so much for being sexy.

But now that he was standing on his feet, it was time to prove who was _man_ material. Shinobu charged hastily, straight at the thugs.

They saw the attack coming, even before the little aggressor moved himself. From there, the thugs took care of Shinobu and they didn't bother to go easy on him. Shinobu only lasted for about five more minutes until it came to the point where he couldn't balance on his feet any longer.

During that duration, Shinobu failed to injure even one of them.

The feisty boy was much too stubborn to back down, even with the blunt disadvantages, and the fighting didn't subside until Shinobu was covered in injuries and blood in some places. There was pain shooting at him at every patch of his skin while some areas were starting to throb.

All of the feelings mounting from each punch or kick reminded Shinobu that he was still breathing, though he could imagine death being hell of a lot more soothing than his current state. He was just glad that no one decided to cheat and use weapons on him. Otherwise he would have definitely perished.

For now, the bigger guys backed off after direction from their leader. Shinobu remained laying as a ragged clump on the filthy rug, stomach facing toward the earth, gasping for air.

Around his eyes hurt like a fucker so they stayed shut as Shinobu was certain they'd become black. Luckily his arms were reliable enough to shield most of the times someone would swing at his nose, saving it from getting broken, though it didn't prevent the trail of red from staining down to his lips.

When Shinobu stuck his tongue out, he tasted the drying rusty liquid. It made him want to spit it right back out but he hadn't the energy. Therefore, he kept that awful flavour of pain in his mouth.

The air around him was way too silent. He needed to know if he'd gotten accepted into this gang or not, but at the same time, he was terrified to hear the results. Shinobu had never experienced a level of anxiety so skyrocketing before in his nine years of life. That, among every other feelings he was juggling, both emotional and physical, was scary.

It took a good while for Shinobu to realize that his body was actually trembling all over.

Covering up his face with his rough hands, his eyes already began to well up with nuisance tears to add to his humiliation. And finally, the leader spoke.

He told the breaking little boy three things in a calm tone:

They didn't like him acting like a brat. They wanted him to hurry up and inwardly grow older. This fact had nothing to do with Shinobu's physical age. It was the attitude of a nine year old that turned them off.

Also, Shinobu got informed that he was a pathetic fighter. And that was stating it nicely. The boy's frailness and imprecise blows, or rather _attempts_ to blow, had completely failed to impress.

Next, the leader spoke a shallow breath as he passed by Shinobu's body to resume whatever he'd been doing before the blonde's interruption. Even though the final point was said so silently, Shinobu heard the unmistakable words crystal clear over his own strangled sobs.

"You're in."

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><p><strong>AN<strong>: This prologue was a pain in the ass. There was supposed to be another scene before this that featured Miyagi, but really... I couldn't write it. But I guess that's alright. If I _had_ finished and added it, then everyone would be in a state of misery after reading it, along with a nine year old Shinobu getting beaten up, so it's fine. ^^

Sorry for no Miyagi/Shinobu bits in this prologue, but there'll be a time skip so probably next chapter I'll have them meet.

Anyway, please review.


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